I am surrounded by confusion. I don't know which way to go. I see stairs. So I run up them. But they are following me;
it is following me; I can't escape. There is a window. I open it and I stand on the ledge, as the night breeze pulls at my hair.
There are telephone poles and wires and then the beautiful open expanse of unknowns.

There is a noise behind me and I see the confusion advancing. Without hesitation, I spread my arms and push down. The air resists
my arms and my body starts to rise. But it's not enough. I'm still on the window sill, with the confusion getting closer.

So I leap. The air pushes against me, surrounding me. I raise my arms and push strongly. The air starts to grip me. Beating my
arms again, the ground stops rushing towards me. I flap slowly, but steadily, and I start to soar above the telephone wires.
I'm moving faster now and the confusion of a second ago feels like it's a world away.

I'm gliding; I'm alone and tranquil. The power of my arms surges underneath at every beat. The air feels like it's hugging me, supporting
me to go wherever I need. I can see the suburbs below and I think of all the ignorant people who never learn to fly, who think it
can't be done, even in dreams. I used to be like that.

I know I'll wake up soon and allow gravity to claim me, but for now, this is my reality. There are no obstacles blocking my way.
I close my eyes and surrender myself to the experience. A wave of pure joy washes over me. I pick a point and start out towards
that, not caring where I'm heading.

I blink, and suddenly my feet are on the ground. I stumble, feeling wobbly on the solid concrete. Someone pushes into me without
apology, and then vanishes, swallowed by the crowd that I'm beginning to notice. I can't see above anyone's head and I don't know
where I am. But I do know it's noon, since the sun has me pinned down, giving me nowhere to hide. Normally, when I dream of flying
I eventually wake up beamingly happy and feel like I can do anything. But, now, here I am in what appears to be another dream, and
I start to get the feeling that the confusion is toying with me.

"Excuse me. Where are we?" I stop a man walking by me, who has what should be a black suit on, but is now a mottled-white from
animal fur. I firmly believe that people who care more about their pets than their appearance can't be too intimidating. His brows
furrow at my words, but he smiles as he replies:

"Schfaffle? Mintra esmbe schnapple?"

I can't understand him and I realise that everyone around me is speaking this strange
language. This should be my dream, so how come I've never heard such a strange language before? Surely all of this must come from my
consciousness? I fleetingly dare to think that maybe what is happening is worse than the confusion. I suppress the thought and try
talking to the man again. He seems friendly, but we just don't seem to understand each other at all. He points towards a tall building
and then grabs my arm somewhat painfully and pushes me. Maybe he's trying to get me to go in that direction? I turn to look at the
building, but it doesn't look like anywhere towards which I would want to willingly head.

When I turn back around, the man isn't there anymore. No, that's not true. Something is still holding my arm, standing exactly where
the man should be, but it doesn't seem human. In fact, it looks like a blue furry monster, maybe even a Muppet!

"You shouldn't be here!" The Muppet tugs on my arm as he whispers insistently.

"What do you mean?" I reply. I try to pull my arm free, but he grabs me again.

"This isn't your dream. You need to get out of here. Now! They'll find you. Follow me. Quickly! We can help you."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Bolingo. I work for -". Without warning, he's no longer there. What's worse is the concrete beneath my feet is also gone, and
it's night-time. I feel a light wind and realise I must be back in my flying dream. Except I'm not flying anymore, I'm falling.
I frantically try flapping my arms, but nothing happens. Gravity has caught me and I tumble faster than I've ever gone before. A
detached part of me rationalises that this is simply a dream and nothing can happen to me, but even that part starts to question what's
happening. I've dreamt of flying too many times to count, and yet I've never fallen to the ground.

The roofs of houses are getting closer, while streetlamps glow steadily and a car pulls up a driveway. Life seems perfectly normal
down there, unaware that I'm rushing to join them. I'm still trying to flap my arms, when I reach the ground face first.

A second of darkness, then I'm lying on my back in a bed. A fluorescent light flickers and comes alive.

"Good morning", a female voice intones blandly. "Thank-you for dreaming. Breakfast will be delivered soon. Have a nice day." I
roll over in bed, trying to pull the covers over my head to block out the light. But the covers won't stop it. Today will be another
day in the lab, as I have come to call it. I don't know how or why I got here, but I know what the routine is. It's the same every day.
I can never remember this place in my dreams, but every morning when I wake up, I remember all my dreams, even the bad ones.

A noise at the door tells me my food has arrived. I rebel as much as I dare by staying in bed for a few minutes more, and then chicken
out. I hurriedly jump out of bed and start eating the food obediently. Life is so much easier if I follow their rules.

On my bad days, I think they can read my mind like they can read my dreams. But every morning I let myself remember my dreams and ignore
the paranoia. Something strange happened in those dreams last night. I think that the Muppet was trying to tell me something. What was
his name again? The dream springs into my mind and I hear his voice telling me his name is Bolingo. He
certainly wasn't like anything I've created in my dreams before. I consider the possibility that maybe someone does know I'm in here.
Maybe someone will come and help me. I've dreamt of escape before, even felt the breeze of freedom on my face, but I've been disappointed
time and time again. So now I refuse to allow myself to believe. Still... Something was different last night.